


Something About Those Leader Types

by HelmetParty



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Jake Park, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Top Dwight Fairfield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 02:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelmetParty/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: Jake isn't capable of saying what he wants. Luckily, Dwight takes a hint.





	Something About Those Leader Types

 Dwight wasn’t necessarily a gallant knight, in fact he was considerably less than courageous, the only word fitting his nature that Jake could think of was ‘coward’. Though, that felt rather untrue but mostly rude. He wouldn’t leave a friend behind, but he wasn’t going to run head first into danger in any heroic act of friendship anytime soon. He preferred to take things with a heavy canister of caution, though a lot of good it did him. Anytime he wasn’t cowering in a locker shaking with anxiety over seeing the killer two million meters away he was being chased and tripping over rocks in his foolishness. But, to his credit, he really was a good leader; he made good decisions, cared about the others, and was incredibly intelligent. (Sometimes).

 Jake, on the other hand. He was quiet, effective, and mostly just tired. He really didn’t care much for the theatrics of the trials, as some of his fellow survivors had, as he had mostly a mind to be in and out. One gen after another was his motto, always ready to clear another objective, and if that meant he had a little bit of a good reputation for saving his friends from time to time he was alright with that. (And, considering some of the girls were pretty cute…)

 Not like it really mattered, anyway. Dwight had a tight hold on him in more ways than one.

 Dwight was pretty nervous by his nature. He was jumpy for starters, hiding at the first sign of trouble, not really being able to say what he thought. That much was clear to him, anyway. Jake imagined that he would probably sound a lot like Dwight in the way that he stuttered and fumbled over his words, if he talked that is. Jake had the right mind to keep quiet, but the truth was that he really just didn’t know how to talk to anyone. All that time alone had done him some good, but this was all foreign. In a way, he sympathized and was actually proud that even with these barriers, Dwight still lead, and capably too.

 Jake really didn’t follow, nor lead for that matter, but there was something about Dwight that made him obey. He was solitary by nature, most of his recent years spent alone in the woods, only meeting and talking to people when he really needed to. He didn’t like taking orders before then anyway, which is one of the reasons he left for that matter. So many lists, so many instructions...he hated it. He preferred to do things his own way. And he would, too, nobody could force him to do anything now. Jake made the conscious decision to follow him, however. He could easily just...not. But he did.

 In more ways than one, too.

 Dwight wasn't great at subtlety. Or maybe it was Jake who wasn't, or both. In the first few...days? Weeks? Hours? (Time under The Entity’s grasp was distorted. Nobody really knew how long had passed at any given time. They had suspected that it must have been at least a few weeks at this point.) Dwight had been insistently looking at Jake. He wasn’t entirely sure why, he wasn’t special. He had actually thought at one point that there was something on his face, but Feng had assured him he was fine. It became so commonplace that anytime Dwight was around him, he would actively try not to look in his direction; Dwight would look away awkwardly, putting his hand to his mouth and become stiff, his face red as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Jake felt bad for a while, assuming that Dwight really just thought he was ugly or something.

 It’s the woods’ fault. Nobody tells you that in living on a farm you forget sociality. 

 Jake had only come to realize it wasn’t his face that was the problem. Well, at the very least, it wasn’t a bad problem. Dwight had tried (and utterly failed) at flirting with him. One night in particular, they were back at the campfire when Dwight had come to sit next to him. Jake laid against a tree a ways away from the fire, still in sight, feeling more comfortable isolated from the growingly large amount of people in their little cursed group. No questions, no campfire games. (Bill had the right idea; he did this too, from time to time, when he didn’t spew random garbage about some apparent  _ zombie apocalypse _ .) 

 He started by asking questions. “What’s your name” and “where are you from”, easy things like that that didn’t really hurt to answer. Then came harder, more strange questions such as “were you married?”, and Jake was rather amused.

 “No,” he says, a brow raised. “Not married.”

 “Oh!” Dwight responded, a sudden light in his eyes. “That’s good!”

 Jake stared in disbelief at the other for a moment, half expecting the punchline to a joke of some sort. Dwight is smiling like an idiot until he catches Jake's confused stare. “I, oh God!” He said, stuttering in his flushed state. “That wasn't what I meant! I only meant-” 

 He stops in his tracks and Jake can practically hear the gears turning in his head. He chuckles.

 “Are  _ you _ married?”, Jake asks, trying to make Dwight feel more comfortable. He shakes his head in response. “Good then.”

 Since then, Jake caught on. Dwight was incredibly pitiful at flirting or showing interest, but often he found himself rather flattered at Dwight's shows of discombobulated affection. It was usually entertaining, in a sad sort of way, but also endearing; Dwight  _ knew _ he was terrible at it, but he kept doing it anyway. In fact, it was sort of inspiring, really. Just less heart - tugging when you're both cramped in a locker.

 “Dumb,” is all Jake says. The air is hot, despite the temperature outside being cold enough for snow. “I don't hear anything.” 

 “Shhh!”, Dwight practically hisses in response. Jake does as he's told, albeit with an eye roll. The locker was much too small for the both of them, let alone barely enough room for one person to hide comfortably. Though when Dwight was instant he saw Michael Myers only a few meters away, he ordered both of them to hide, and Jake wasn't about to make a ruckus about it. 

 Their bodies are touching involuntary, squished like two graham crackers in a box. Honestly, the cramped space reminded Jake of home. It make him smile unconsciously, internally laughing at the stupidity that such a simple and uncomfortable thing would remind him of that. In his thoughts, only now does he become aware of the fact that Dwight was holding his waist. Did he know he was doing it? He didn't look like it. His head was positioned on the cold red steel of the locker, supposedly listening for the outside.

 Jake doesn't say anything. He stares at Dwight, the overpowering feeling of touch suddenly clicking in his brain. It had been much too long since someone had touched him. (Positively; of course he was being stabbed every other day, carried to a hook like a slaughtered pig, or back home, accidental brushes with strangers. None of that was intimate, at least in a way he wanted). He found himself suddenly feeling childish for melting in his own feelings because Dwight had his hands on him, but God, he really didn't want it to stop. The area where he held him tingled, and he felt incredibly vulnerable; although Jake was strong, he could be emotionally ruined in a mere second. 

 It was just so stupid. He felt like an idiot.

 Dwight picks his head from the locker door, yet still talks quietly. “I think we're good now,” he says, and he goes to open the door.

 “Wait,” Jake intervenes, probably sounding more desperate than he prayed he did. “Just...wait.”

 Jake leaned in to Dwight. He puts his hands on his shoulders and avoids looking him in the eyes. “I think he's still out there. We should wait.”

 Dwight squints, clearly confused. “I...I really don't think so.”

 Jake really wasn't sure what to say. His mind was racing and his heart was beating. All he wanted was for Dwight to lean forward and kiss him, right then and there.

 “Jake...are you doing okay?”

 He can only nod. It was incredibly awkward. Jake realized he was somewhat biased in the fact that he felt awkward in most social situations, but this was different. He didn’t know what he was doing, or what he even hoped to accomplish by this. What did he want Dwight to do? It’s not like he was giving hints. 

 Hints. Right. Hint at what he wanted, right? Jake is positive he had Dwight’s full attention, despite the fact he was facing away. He comes up with an absolutely ingenious, foolproof plan, and tries to move his body closer to his just tiny bits at a time. He prayed the other didn’t notice, but then why was he doing it? So that he wouldn’t catch the idea? 

 Dwight did. He could recognize awkward flirting. It was, after all, his forte.

 Dwight leans forward to meet Jake’s face and places a hasty, although surprisingly competent, kiss on Jake’s lips. He pulls away, perhaps to gauge Jake’s reaction, and only then does Jake press forward and press them together again.

 Jake was surprised at how well Dwight was at this. It was messy and incredibly needy, but Dwight certainly was proficient at this. Jake wouldn’t have thought. He looked like he had never done this in his life, but that was clearly not true. Maybe it was beginners luck? 

 It didn’t matter. Dwight’s hands were cold as he lifted them under Jake’s jacket, the frigid touch of them sending shivers into Jake’s spine. He touches rough, controlling, something that made Jake’s head spin. His hands wander further, to Jake’s nipples, where Dwight circles his thumbs on them. He groans into their heavy makeout, his arms sprawled and hanging onto Dwight’s neck for dear life. Their groins pressed together through their clothes, each grinding for friction against the other.

 Perhaps it was the confined space. Maybe it was the fact they could die at any moment. In fact, Jake didn’t care about anything in that moment; not even if he seemed weak. He was tired and he wanted this. 

 Jake breaks up their mouths, breath heavy and hot, face red and flushed. “I…”, he says, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say. “How far are we…?”

 “Turn around,” Dwight answers with dark eyes.

 Jake does so. It’s tight in the locker, but he manages it. He wasn’t entirely sure how this would work in in such a cramped space, but it had to. He wanted this. He  _ needed  _ this.

 Dwight holds Jake’s hips and wastes no time pulling his pants down. Jake bites his bottom lip, trying to stop himself from making any sounds he would later regret. He feels Dwight grab him, spread him open and press a finger to his hole. He circles it for a few moments, then proceeds to press a finger inside. Jake can’t help but groan, his entire body pressed against the cold locker walls, praying it didn’t tip over and give them away to the Shape. God only knows how embarrassing it would be to be hooked with your pants down. He would literally rather be consumed by the entity a thousand times over.

 Jake can hear Dwight pull his own pants down. He feels his cock pressed against his ass as he’s fingered, one then two fingers, barely keeping composure over himself. 

 “Hurry,” Jake says quietly, his voice low and full of hunger. Dwight takes his fingers out in response, and starts to jerk himself. He hears Dwight spit, and hopes to any God that that would be enough. But in truth, Jake wanted to hurt this way. At least this pain would be something he could control.

 Dwight places the tip of his cock at Jake’s entrance. He grabs Jake’s hips, holding on tight enough to bruise. He hears Dwight groan quietly as he enters, Jake quivering under his hold. It had been a long time. Too long, in truth; years, probably, since someone had taken him like this. Jake missed it.

 He pushes in slowly. In and out, getting the other acquainted with the feeling of being stretched open. Soon, the pace quickens, though it was much too early for Jake who still wasn’t entirely situated, but he didn’t complain. He would gladly take anything Dwight gave to him. It felt good to be taken like this, despite it being messy and confined. It had been too long without intimate touch like this.

 Dwight moaned as he rocked his hips with vigor. He smacked and fondled Jake’s ass with fervor, muttering dirty fantasies into his ear. His hands go from holding his hips to holding his chest, squeezing his breasts - whatever breasts he had - firmly between his fingers. It made Jake feel small, tame, submissive. He ravished in control being taken from him. For those moments in that rickety metal locker, he didn’t worry about anything. The only thing he felt was Dwight, skin against skin, the distantly familiar sound of cock in ass.

 It was too much. It had been too long since either of them had done anything; it was all survive, sleep, repeat now. Jake was already close.

 “Dwight,” he whines, one of his hands moving from his mouth, where it was stationed to try and keep himself quiet, to his own hip. “I’m close.”

 Dwight pounded away, Jake’s legs threatening to give out. Any semblance of being quiet we’re gone. Jake sobs in both pleasure and pain, his bottom lip bleeding from how hard he had been biting. He shakily jerks himself off, or tries to until Dwight pushes his hand away. “I can make you come without it,” he says, and he was right; he was already painfully close. All he needed was to be touched, just a little, but Dwight was having none of it.

 There is noise outside the locker and Jake goes to cover his mouth. Dwight doesn’t even stop. His teeth bit into the back of Jake’s neck as he continued, clearly coming to his own end; Jake wanted to beg for him to touch him, even a little,  _ anything _ . With each hit of his prostate, he whined through his hand, eyes closed, trying not to make any loud noises.

 Not like it mattered. Jake came first, unable to keep himself from moaning in bliss. Dwight felt him tighten, and came next. 

 Jake was fucked through the most important climax of his life, and it was great.

 The both of them huffed. Jake felt almost as if he was about to pass out, if Dwight had not held him up with some power that just seemed beyond him. They stay like that for a minute, Dwight slowly loosening his grips on Jake and Jake slowly coming back to his lost senses. 

 “You came inside?” Jake mentions incredibly quietly, trying to sound annoyed but only ending up sounding rather pleased. He hears Dwight chuckle. “S-sorry.”

 The two of them both scramble to pull up their pants, and also pull up their forgotten dignity. Jake turns around once again, going to face his fellow Survivor, face red and stained with tears. He’s incredibly sore, shaky, and overall not really feeling facing the rest of the trial. What he really wanted was a good nap, which would be impossible until they (hopefully) got out. 

 Both of them say nothing, but Dwight leans forward and places a gentle kiss on Jake’s lips.

 “Should we...go then?” Jake says after a second, feeling awkward. He could only pray that the killer hadn’t heard them. But, the other option was the sound outside was a teammate, which was also infinitely horrifying. Jake appealed to the Entity herself that the sound he had heard was only a crow, or something along those lines.

 “Y-yeah,” Dwight responds, going to open the locker door. “But can we...talk, later? After this, or, like, sometime?”

 Jake nodded. He really can’t believe he let this nerd fuck him.

 The doors to the locker open slowly. Both of them regaining sense for the trial, ready as they’ll ever be to face what was out there.

 “Finally,” a voice says in a quiet yell. “Jesus christ, guys. Really.”

 Feng stood, working on a gen which was visible behind a broken down brick wall. She was grinning, her eyebrows high, seemingly pleased.

 Jake sighed. At least it was only her.

 “Feng!” Dwight exclaimed, clearly embarrassed. “What are...what are you doing here?”   
 Feng sighed in amusement, looking back towards the gen with a wide grin. “I don’t know, Dwighty. Fixing a gen so we all don’t die.”

 Jake was already walking over to help her. Anyone else, he would probably run in the other direction; but Feng was, from the little Jake had talked to her, pretty alright. He was still embarrassed, but at the very least, he knew Feng was a woman of integrity. Mostly.

 Dwight sighs and walks over to work on the gen as well.

 They sit in silence for a while before Dwight breaks it. “You wont...you wont tell anyone, right?” 

 Feng laughs heartily. “No, I won’t.” She looks over and winks. “You’re lucky it was me and not the big guy, that's what you should really worry about.”

 Jake supposed that was true.

 “Besides, the lockers are too small. Try behind a hay bale next time.” 

 “What, you know from experience?” Jake adds, half joking, full smile.

 “The huntress doesn’t chase me for twenty minutes, I hate to break it to you.”

 Neither of them knew if she was joking or not, but either way, each were satisfied. 


End file.
